Windmills
by Alley Cat Sunflower
Summary: Karkat, bitter over Dave's conquest of Terezi, meets him in a dream bubble full of windmills. Fascinated, he takes strength from them to exact his revenge. Kind of an AU; possibly post-Sburb. T for reasons. Mentioned Dave/Terezi, Karkat/Terezi, and Karkat/Dave. I do not own Homestuck or the cover art!


You stand alone in a field of golden, dry grass, blinking wakefulness out of your eyes. A pale orange sunset stretches out to your left; your first instinct is to cower in the light, used to the harsher light that is Alternia's sun, but gradually, you get used to it. You even admit, albeit grudgingly, that it is a somewhat nice day, even if it is _his _memory.

But you don't seeyour fellow Knight anywhere, which strikes you as terribly irresponsible of him, seeing as how you recently told him in no uncertain terms that you wanted to talk to him somewhere no one would hear you. He is in the midst of practicing the same skills Aradia has, as far as you know, which is to say, exploring the dream bubbles without being asleep or dead himself—but you plann on changing the latter if at all possible.

As you look up, you notice the flock of towering white monoliths with red lights blinking high in the early evening sky, three rotating blades cutting noiselessly through the air.

"What are these?" is your first question as he materializes in front of you, brushing off his magic pajamas and looking generally insufferable. You might have found his arrogant attitude attractive if your heart wasn't so blackened with grief. Meeting his eyes defiantly as he mocks your ignorance, though you can't see his expression behind those infernal shades, you shudder inwardly to think your feelings ever veered towards the caliginous.

"Windmills," is his prompt reply, laced with a combination of scorn and curiosity. "Don't tell me they don't have these on your planet?"

"We didn't come to talk about alien technology," you spit, annoyed that he can speak so lightly when your heart is so heavy.

"Then what did we come here to talk about?" he asks, an eyebrow arched innocently as he poses the question. You have never been more furious. How dare he act as though he doesn't know!

"You _know _what we came here to talk about!" you hiss, feeling your sickle appear unbidden in your hands as your temper gets out of control once again. "Terezi," you say, voice breaking, as you explain in response to his quizzical look.

"I thought you'd disapprove in the end," he says, a tiny fraction of a smirk tugging at his mouth. You have to force your mind away from your former kismesissitudinal feelings as he continues, "You said you'd be fine with us being in a—what's the word? Matespriteship?" He gave a cocky grin.

"Mate_sprit_ship," you growl between clenched teeth. It wouldn't be half as bad if he acted as though he were remotely interested in the subject of trollian romance, or if he weren't trying to antagonize you on purpose. Unfortunately, he was doing neither. You turn your sickle over in your hands restlessly.

"Oh yeah," he laughs. "You said you were totally cool with it, and then you lost your head when it actually happened." He frowns as your eyes fill with pinkish tears, blurring your view of the rapidly setting sun and the windmills, methodically continuing their unsynchronized yet regular-as-clockwork swinging of their blades, fulfilling an unseen purpose by generating unseen energy.

"I've known her longer!" you shriek, letting a few tears fall, all reason lost. You were too deeply invested in the certainty of always having her to rely on, always loving her with the possibility of reciprocation. By having all that torn away from you in favor of an asshole like Strider, there is not a single part of you that thinks rationally. "She's mine. Mine. Not yours!"

"Whoa, man, calm down," he sighs. "She's not a thing, okay? Stop acting like I stole something from you. She was free to choose, and guess who she chose? Not you," he adds, as though you need a hint as to who he means.

"Fuck you," you manage, wiping your eyes in as dignified a manner as possible. You know, deep down, it's not him you're angry at. It's you. You are the one who had everything within reach, and lost it because you kept giving her mixed signals. The way you always treated her appalls you when you think of it. She gave you every indication of red attraction, and you treated her caliginously. Now, you have to pay the price.

"Easy now, Vantas. Don't be too forward." That smirk. It reminds you a lot of how Ampora used to act towards you, misinterpreting your insults as black flirtation. You know he's just toying with you, though, enjoying your discomfort, relishing your pain, and that makes it a thousand times worse. You brandish your sickle, through with his obnoxious self-centeredness, convincing yourself killing him will solve everything.

"Go ahead and do it," he smiles, holding out his arms in a mocking gesture of defeat. He thinks you won't. He doesn't know you very well.

You occupy yourself for the next half minute staring at the windmills, wondering at their unflinching, steadfast presence. They seem the kind of mechanism that never fails, never stops, never turns back. Strangely, you find that they endow you with a kind of power; the spinning of their lethal-looking blades gives you the strength you need to go through with it.

Soaking in the expression of fear on his face as you draw back your arm, you swing the sickle, shutting your eyes to spare them the sight you know will be before you, and then there is only the silence of the windmills.


End file.
